


We're burning up

by minzimpression



Series: winterhawk one-shots [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minzimpression/pseuds/minzimpression
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint may or may not fall in love with a soldier while riding the subway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're burning up

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a break from my other story. Here you go, I hope you like it.

Clint is feeling very uncomfortable in his suit and fumbles with his tie to get it lose. He’s standing on the platform of a subway station and silently curses the NYC weather. The display above his head shows him that the next train (the third in the row) will be canceled, too. He groans and searches for a place on the platform that isn’t swarmed by people. Not an easy task, but after a few elbow checks and ‘Sorry-not-sorry’ glares he stands with his back to the wall and pulls out his shiny new StarkPad which he had received from the one and only Tony Stark himself, one hour ago. 

He’d been in Queens for a job interview at the Stark Industries plant (Stark is working on something big and likes to get his hands dirty at the factory). His best friend, Natasha, was Stark’s PA. (Yeah, he didn’t want to know how she got _that_ job) She had told him a week ago that Stark’s driver/bodyguard got promoted (aka marrying Stark’s CEO Virginia Potts) and that Stark was in need of a new head of security/occasional driver/by his side on certain events guy. Clint had just dumped milk in his cereal bowl and had continued staring at her, not knowing why she had told him this.

Natasha had rolled her eyes at him. “I told him about you. He wants to meet you.”

“You what? Why?” Clint had been seriously surprised. Why the fuck would some fancy billionaire like Stark want some low-class guy to be the head of his security? “What the fuck did you tell him about me? I’ve never even went to college. I have nothing to offer him.”

Natasha had stared him down in her own lovely way and took the empty carton of milk to throw it in the trash. “You _did_ go for one semester. And then Byer made you an offer you couldn’t refuse and _left_.” She didn’t add the _me_ which Clint had been thankful for. He still didn’t know if the ten years as the CIA’s special lapdog had been useful or a whole disaster.

“Yeah, but I am not with the CIA anymore, remember? I quit four years ago. I’m happy with my current job.”

There had been that unimpressed look again which made Clint sometimes wonder if his life choices really were as poor as she told him they were.

“A barista in the morning and working at the boxing club at night?” she just had asked him and Clint had caved.

“Okay, okay. Whatever. I don’t know why he’d choose me but I’ll go, just to get you off my ass.”

“Excellent,” she had said, looking very pleased with herself.

And now he is here, the newest head of security of the Stark Industries NYC Department and with a new tablet and phone. (“You’ll need these for working with me, trust me. I bet you have this Apple shit stuff. Please burn them. Or better, give them to me and I’ll burn them. They are for your private use, too. You can thank me later.”)

Playing with his shiny new tablet, he still can’t believe that he got the job. (“I hear, you’re good with arrows, can you shoot the targets?” he had asked Clint, offering him a holographic bow (what the fuck!) and showing him the holograms which were formed like targets. Naturally, Clint had aced it and Tony had hired him on the spot, because he’s ‘cool’, apparently.) The pay was extraordinaire and Stark (“Please, call me Tony”) had made the job sound so easy. 

Clint hasn’t calculated the shitty weather, though. He honestly had thought that the storm would come later, maybe in the afternoon. Obviously, the bazillion people around him had thought the same. After half an hour of playing Angry Avengers (Clint loves the comics) his tablet still has 97% battery left. Huh. So the Stark products are worth their money. Good to know. 

Another five minutes later and finally a train arrives. Clint swears there’s tears and blood involved but he manages to board the train. The train car is more than full already, but he somehow gets the last seat next to a door and sits down, trying to make himself as small as possible. After two minutes the train’s doors close and he can’t help but wave to the poor souls who are still outside on the platform. When one man flips him off, Clint snickers and turns away from the window. Loud laughter makes him look at the other end of the train car and he sees a group of army men sitting there. They’re all in uniform and block the way to the next train car with their huge bags. They all look tired but happy and Clint guesses that they’re on block leave.

The booming laughter is the courtesy of a huge blond man of whom Clint is pretty sure that his muscles have muscles. His hair is long (Clint asks himself why he can still have long hair when he’s in the army) and looks like it’s washed with L’Oréal. Next to him is _another_ tall and blond man, chuckling. Man, they are all looking damn hot. Smiling to himself, Clint checks out the rest of the soldiers and wonders if they are driving to some ‘Hot Soldier Calendar Shooting’ event. Clint would definitely buy it. 

At the next stop, even more people want to get in and Clint realizes that it’s going to be a long ride. At least he has his new tablet and phone to play with. He looks up from Angry Avengers again when he hears loud good-bye choruses and smiles again at the sight of the soldiers saying good-bye to a man with an impressive moustache. Without the fellow soldier of them and some pushing and shoving from the other passengers, Clint spots another small group of soldiers. They look much more tired than the others and most of them are sleeping. One of them is awake, though. But just barely. He is sitting at the far end of the train car, slumped in his seat and staring into nothing.

Like the others, he’s in his combat uniform and has his feet propped up on his crammed duffel bag. A battered copy of ‘The Martian’ lies on his lap and his hands are currently busy trying to get his hair tamed which stands up in every direction. Someone who can sleep on a plane, then. Clint marvels at that. 

You see, Clint isn’t normally one who crushes on somebody as soon as he lays eyes on them. Feelings are ridiculous and he’s much better with friendships than he is with romantic relationships. Sure, there was a time when he had thought Kate was _the one_ and he had thought about marrying her. Or that intense, but brief, fling with Bruce, which they had ended because the other man had gone to India for work. But those things just had happened. He’d had sex with them and the morning after they hadn’t left and Clint had thought ‘I can do that.’ But he hadn’t been too sad when they finally had called it quits. The world moves on, and so does Clint. 

But this is something he hasn’t expected at all. He follows the movement of the soldier’s hands through his hair, traces the line of his nose with an imaginary finger, strokes those cheekbones in his mind and wonders how that mouth would taste if he were to stand up, go to him and kiss him senseless. This little imagination thing isn’t bad per se. That guy isn’t the first person, Clint is fantasizing about. But it’s a little irritating that he also thinks that he looks so interesting, he wants to get to know him.

The thing that finally lets his alarm bells sound, is his own heart.

It is his heart that skips a beat when he’s suddenly confronted with the bluest of sleepy eyes. Clint has no idea what to do. Normally, he doesn’t give a fuck when he’s caught staring but when the sleepy look is traded with an interested, he just can’t look away. His pulse is speeding up and his blood is rushing through his veins. 

At first, Clint thinks _What the fuck_.

Then, the man gives him a lazy smirk and Clint thinks _Oh._

And then again _Fuck._

He has to avert his gaze when an old lady with blue hair is whacking him over the head with her full string bag, complaining not so subtly about having tired legs. Clint rolls his eyes and puts his tablet and phone away. He stands up, smiles at the woman with all teeth and is promptly pushed away, so she can sit down. The pushing sends him into a group of texting teenage girls who promptly start to giggle when he lands in their arms. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles gruffly and has to squeeze himself through the mass of people until he’s able to breathe properly again, more or less. He’s now pressed against a door and hopes he won’t be washed out the next time the doors will open. He stands like this for a few seconds, staring into nothing, until he can’t bear it anymore and cranes his neck to get a view of the soldier again. 

He is still looking at him, smirking even more and he was obviously witnessing Clint’s encounter with the old lady and the girls. There’s laughter in his eyes and Clint huffs, can’t help but smile a bit at this guy. The smirk of the soldier turns into a soft smile and yep. That’s it.

Clint knows he’s half in love with the guy right now. And if that doesn’t scare him shitless…

He doesn’t even know his name. Or if he’s an asshole. Or in a relationship. Or likes men…

Ugh…fuck this shit. He shouldn’t do this. He won’t see this guy again, anyway. There’s no way he could go there and ask for his number because there _is no way._ Clint is pretty sure that nobody can get in the train anymore. He gets pressed to the door closer and breaks the eye contact again, swearing to himself that he won’t look in the direction of the soldier again. He’s being ridiculous. 

Of course he can’t look away that long.

Another three stations in and he _has_ to look his way again. The man is talking to tall and blond, affection in his eyes. Oh god. Clint bits his lip and looks away again. What’s wrong with him? He shouldn’t do that. He’s got other things to worry about. Like his brand new job at Stark fucking Industries which he’s starting next week. _Next week._ He’s got so much to do until then. Learn all the names of his soon-to-be minions. Acquaint himself with the layout of Stark Tower. Maybe looking for an apartment in Manhattan because of irregular working hours (Stark had already warned him). 

He groans silently and leans his forehead against the cool glass of the doors, closing his eyes. He doesn’t know if he should kiss or kick Natasha. His life has been on the quiet and boring side lately, sure. But if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have this stress now. Stressing about some dude who apparently is into tall and blond and handsome guys. _If_ he is into guys. Well, Clint would never know, because he has to change trains in a few stations and will never see the guy again. Never ever. 

Wow, why is it so hard to breathe, suddenly? 

He opens his eyes again and peeks in the direction of the soldier. 

There.

The soldier is looking at him again. When he catches Clint’s eye, he grins again and winks. He fucking winks.

And no. Clint is _not_ blushing like a damn school girl. Usually, it is _him_ who gets into the pants of the other party within minutes, just with some eye-fucking and his obnoxious persona. And now he can only stare back, dumbly, putting on a silly smile. He fucking _knows_ that he looks like a dork but he can’t _help_ it. 

Their gazes meet on and off again, depending on how many passengers leave and how many board the train. 

Clint is by now pretty sure that the guy is flirting with him. And he is aware of the fact, that he is flirting back and is slowly finding back to his usual, ~~over~~ confident self. Their latest intense stare down is interrupted by that Captain America look-alike. 

“Bucky! C’mon, our stop is next!” His guy perks up at that and puts his book into the bag, standing up and throwing it over his shoulder. He looks at Clint with an apologizing look and mouthing a ‘gotta go.’

 _Bucky_. That’s his name and it sounds like the name of a four-year-old. Clint fucking loves it. Then his heart falls because _Bucky_ (SSG Barnes, he notices with a closer look at the uniform) is going to leave the train and he will never see him again. Bucky and Blondie are near him now, trying to make their way to the doors opposite of him. Bucky is talking (holy fuck, his voice)to the other man, wondering if some guy named Wilson took good care of their apartment.

Oh god. _Their_ apartment. 

The train slows down and Clint’s heart is racing. Suddenly, he doesn’t care that those two are maybe an item. In ten seconds, Bucky will be out of his life and Clint won’t even have the chance to get to know him better. He grips the new phone in his jacket and grinds his teeth. He can’t just follow them. He’s not a creepy stalker, okay? He should just ask him for his number, or say ‘hi’ in his sexy voice so that Bucky would stop short and go to him and they could make out right here. 

No, that’s dumb. 

The train comes to a halt and the passengers who want out are starting to move. Bucky looks at him one last time, sighs and then he turns around and follows his ~~lover~~ friend. Clint panics and does the first thing that comes to his mind. He pushes two men to the side, takes his phone out and manages to slip it into the side pocket of Bucky’s duffel bag. Bucky and his bag are out of the train and Clint looks at the back of his head somewhat desperately and the train starts moving again.

When the station is out of sight again, Clint realizes that he just slipped his _work phone_ which he had _just_ received from _Tony Stark_ into the bag of the sexiest man alive. 

When he changes trains two stations later (And this train is fucking empty, what the hell), he’s still asking himself what the fuck he just did. 

By the time he’s in a relatively empty train car, he knows he’s overthinking too much. He’s going to do damage control now, or he won’t see Bucky or his new phone ever again. He takes out his StarkPad and _thank fuck_ , the number of the phone is saved there. He looks around, but the only other passengers are a group of college students who are all ignoring each other and have their head phones on. 

All right, then.

He taps the video call button with his finger and waits anxiously when it’s dialing. Heart in his throat, he waits and waits…and waits. Maybe the phone is on silent mode and then the battery will die and Bucky will wash it with his clothes and…fuck, _there he is._

At first he sees Bucky’s chin and then the phone is lifted and Bucky’s confused gaze meets his. Clint gives an awkward wave.

“Hey,” he says. Oh god what has he been thinking? That must be the most stupid thing he’s ever done. And that includes Budapest. 

Bucky’s eyes light up in recognition and Clint thinks that maybe he did the right thing. Bucky looks to someone not captured in the camera. “ _You, go ahead. And take my bag with you, would you?_ ” Clint’s view of Bucky shakes when the other man rummages to lose his bag and after a few seconds he’s in the picture again. He’s still smiling and seems to sit down on a bench. 

“ _I knew that couldn’t be my phone. I would remember if I had the latest StarkPhone. The army doesn’t pay me this much._ ”

Clint could drown in this voice. Internally, he’s laughing hysterically because Bucky is all smiles and nice and he doesn’t call out Clint on borderline stalkerish behavior. 

He ducks his head and grins sheepishly. “Yeah, I got it from my new boss just a few hours ago. It’s my work phone actually.”

“ _So you need it back? I can’t hawk it on eBay?_ ”

“You would break my heart if you do that.” Fucking hell. What is he even talking? Already talking about heart break. Smooth.

“ _No, I wouldn’t want that._ ” Bucky replies. “ _But that’s the complicated way. You could have just talked to me on the train. I’m not biting… yet._ ”

There is that smirk again that does strange things to Clint’s body and apparently he has no brain-to-mouth-filter because he says, “I’m chicken shit.” And he fights the urge to face-palm. 

Bucky barks a laugh at that and tugs at his hair. That hair again. Clint wants to run his fingers through it. 

“ _I’m glad you didn’t talk to me._ ” Bucky says and Clint thinks _what?_ “ _I wouldn’t want to explain my employer why I’ve been arrested for having sex public._ ”

Clint laughs a bit shakily and can Bucky be more perfect?

“I think my new employer would love that. Maybe I would have gotten a pay raise before I even got started with work.”

“ _Who’s your boss?? Hugh Hefner?_ ”

“Uh, Tony Stark? I’m going to be his head of security, starting next week.” he’s still unsure if he really is going to work for him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at that and looks impressed.

“ _Nice. He used to make awesome weapons. We’re using HammerTech right now and it’s pure shit._ ”

Clint jerks up when his station was announced and he steps out into the cold weather, still talking to Bucky. The reception out there is bad and the screen with Bucky’s face freezes. He knows he has to disconnect the call. And Bucky must be very tired. He’s coming right out of Afghanistan after all.

“So…,” he says, raising his tablet to get a better reception. “I have to hang up now. The reception here is shit.”

Bucky looks disappointed at that. 

Clint grows a pair of balls and says, “Sorry, I did creep up on you. I’m sure when you aren’t jetlagged anymore, you’re going to think I’m crazy. I…I just wanted to talk to you.”

Bucky smiles softly. “ _I was pretty distressed when I left the train. Even Steve, that dense motherfucker, knew that something was up. So I’m really glad for your quick thinking._ ”

Clint can’t believe that this is the real life. His face must be frozen in a smile. 

“I can’t believe this is happening, if I’m honest. But I really need to hang up, or I’m talking more shit. And you, go to sleep. You look tired.”

“ _Believe me, I am._ ”

“So…uh, talk to you later?” Clint asks hopefully.

“ _Sure. You need your phone back, after all._ ”

Oh, right. He totally would have forgotten that. 

“Maybe that’s the reason, I planted it on you.”

Bucky huffs and then yawns. “ _Sleep does sound good. I’ll talk to you later, so we can meet up and I can give you your phone._ ” Clint practically hears the air quotes and snickers.

“You do that. I’m going to connect to Stark’s servers and pretend to prepare for my new work. Good-bye, Bucky.”

He snorts. “ _How come you know my name and I don’t even know yours? And it’s James Buchanan Barnes._ ”

Well, now ‘Bucky’ makes sense. 

“Okay, James Buchanan Barnes,” he says. “I am Clinton Francis Barton. Call me Clint. Always at your service.”

“ _I’ll see you soon, Clint._ ”

~+~

Clint practically floats all the way to his apartment. This day can’t get better. He nailed it at the job interview and somehow managed to get the world’s hottest man to talk to him – without him being creeped out. 

“Awesome,” Clint sighs when he enters his apartment and he thinks that might be the best day of his life. 

It’s really just pretending when he tries to prepare the work he has to do in a week from now. All he can think of is Bucky. How his hair looks, how his laugh sounds, how his red lips stretch when he smiles. 

He’s head over heels and knows it.

He skips lunch because of his day dreaming and when the weather forecast tells him that the night is going to be really ugly, he decides to order in for dinner. His fridge is empty and he doesn’t want to go out there.

When the doorbell rings, he buzzes the pizza guy up and gives him a huge tip for making it through the dinner. He’s closed the door for ten seconds and just wants to bite in this fat pizza when his doorbell rings again. 

Huh.

He opens the door and for a moment he has trouble comprehending. 

It’s Bucky in all his glory. He’s out of his uniform, looking refreshed and has the tightest black jeans on Clint has ever seen. He’s in a cozy coat and has a hat on his head. 

“You look like a fucking hipster,” Clint blurts out and Bucky snorts, reaching in his pocket and comes up with Clint’s phone. “I thought, I’ll give it to you personally. The pizza guy let me in.Your address was in the phone.” (What the hell? How could the address be in there? Had Stark wanted to hire him all along? What had Natasha told him about Clint?)

“Yeah, give it to me personally. That was a wonderful idea,” Clint manages to fucking leer and steps aside, gesturing Bucky to come in. Bucky accepts the invitation and in the few seconds Clint needs to close the door properly and pocket his phone, Bucky’s out of his coat and Clint can’t deal with how hot he looks.

“Thanks for the phone,” Clint’s mouth is dry and he is more hungry than ever. Just not for the pizza.

Bucky takes off his shoes, not breaking eye-contact with Clint. “About that giving it to you personally concept…” Bucky starts and plays with the hem of his shirt. 

Clint had been wrong. This day has gotten even better.

They’re at each other’s mouths in an instant and Clint groans like a god damn slut just because he’s finally tasting Bucky. Hell, he doesn’t even know Bucky, but it feels so _right._ He’s hard. He’s ready. He wants Bucky. He wants _everything_.

He shoves him and they lose all of their clothes on the way to the bedroom. 

Bucky’s rough voice when he says, “God, I’ve wanted to do this to you since I saw you on that seat, cackling like a lunatic at something on your tablet” may or may drag a whimper out of Clint.

Or Bucky’s tongue.

Or his hands.

Or his dick.

Clint devours him completely this night. 

~+~

The next morning, Bucky doesn’t leave and Clint thinks _I can do that._

~+~

It’s an embarrassing short amount of time until he tells Bucky that he loves him.

But Bucky is okay with that blurted love confession and asks Clint to marry him.

~+~

Yes, Clint can _definitely_ do that.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I put Thor in the US army. That thought is hilarious.
> 
>  my [tumblr](http://minzimpression.tumblr.com)


End file.
